


My Little Muffin

by makingitwork



Series: Chase/House [57]
Category: House M.D.
Genre: Anorexia, Body Image, Bulemia, Eating Disorder, Happy Ending, M/M, Pre-Slash, nothing too graphic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-21
Updated: 2014-09-21
Packaged: 2018-02-18 06:11:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2338034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/makingitwork/pseuds/makingitwork
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Chase's mother dies, he starts losing weight.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Little Muffin

**Author's Note:**

> Prompted by Roxy Smith!  
> x

You remember limping into your office during your ducklings lunch break, and seeing Chase sat at the table alone, mulling over a crossword puzzle and enjoying his lunch. You admire the precise order of everything for a moment, Chase has always been very neat. His plastic container rests on it's lid, inside, lying softly on clean tissue, is an assortment of berries, cut up pieces of banana and apricot and nectarine. In a small rounder container, is cold pasta, that looks and smells delicious. There's only about half left, the fork resting in it softly and House knows that this portion has been saved for him, because Chase has come to realise that at least a section of his lunch will be stolen, and he wants to keep some control over it. then, lying beside his lunch, is his water bottle (which you tease him mercilessly for having, only then to break out in one of your pain induced sweats, and beg him to give to you) and a chocolate chip muffin with icing. A very healthy, and weighted meal.

You snatch up his pasta pot, and he smiles up at you "A 9 letter word for thinking back?" He asks, in that delicious Australian drawl you've grown to love. Or rather have always loved.

"Nostalgic." You don't even need to think. It's there.

He smiles again, he smiles a lot, and it's a perfect smile, as he tucks his long blond hair behind his ear "Thanks." And he fills it in, picking up a piece of apricot as a reward. You shrug, feigning disinterest, and hobble to your office sit in your comfy chair, and watch him bluntly through the glass. But he doesn't notice. He continues with his crossword till it's inevitable finish rather soon (Chase is good at crosswords, and sometimes you think he asks for your help just to make conversation). He eats his fruit, sips his water, then with boyish glee, eats his muffin as he scans the headlines. He's just finished packing everything up, refilled his water bottle, when his pager beeps. You make sure to look away.

"G'day House," he calls as a goodbye, and you wave him off, and when you look back, he's gone.

...

...

...

That's gone now.

One week after Chase's mother has drunk herself to death, you limp into your office, and force yourself to laugh, because that's what you do. "Well, well, well, Wombat, how does it feel to join the Orphan Club? You're a regular day Harry Potter too, same age and nationality as him, right?"

Chase manages a weak smile, looking down at his crossword. His lunch today, is non-existent. Only a bottle of water. You don't tease him for that anymore. You haven't seen him eat anything in too long.

"Hey," you groan "If you don't have any lunch, what am I meant to steal off you?" It's poorly laced concern, but Chase seems to buy it. He was always rather good at manipulating.

"They're serving pizza down in the cafeteria today, I could loan you some money?"

"Oh yeah, after Mommy's death you must be swimming in cash, right?" and it's the wrong thing to say, and you bite your tongue fiercely in punishment, because you've kicked a man when he's down. Chase only nods tightly, and gives you his money. He wouldn't use it for lunch anyway. As though that should ease your conscience.

...

...

...

"Make us some coffee, Wilson!" you order heartily, as you and Chase battle it out on your new Gameboys that's you've connected through a USB cord, and this is fun, way better than playing against a computer (which you're pretty sure is rigged)

Wilson sighs, exasperated, but pours two cups "What do you like Chase?"

"He likes being dominated," you wink, gesturing as best you can with one hand while trying not to lose the race, to Chase's wrist, where the rope marks from his bank-teller story are, and Chase laughs.

"3 sugars and milk, please," he chuckles, turning a little too late on the last lap, and you beat him by less than a millisecond, and the game tells you it's a draw, but you both know otherwise, and Chase hangs his head in mock shame.

...

...

...

You shouldn't be here, but you were doing your daily duty of looking through Cuddy's office, to see if she's hired anyone new, if she's changed the budget, if she's still on that pregnancy medication, and then she's coming in with someone and you hide behind the curtains like you did when you were 9 and your dad was looking for you, wanting to punish you.

"Sit down Chase, please," Lisa says softly, and you peak through the velvet, and see Chase in his green scrubs "Coffee? How do you take it?"

"Black."

"Okay," she's back a moment later, and you watch Chase sip the bland, sour coffee, with no complaint. "So, how are you? Dealing with your mother okay?"

"I'm fine." He wants to end the conversation, but she's looking at him with concerned, prying eyes, and he sighs "I'm going to Melbourne over the weekend, helping my cousin plan the funeral. We've got her an allotment right next to my fathers."

Cuddy seems pleased. "Sleeping well?"

"Just fine."

"Eating well?" She asks, eyes appraising Chase "You seem a little thinner."

 _That's not the half of it,_ you think. But Chase just shrugs and smile, in this natural way of lying you know he's picked up from you. "Just a hectic weak, that's all, I'll pick myself up a game steak tonight."

...

...

...

"I picked up Thai." You call, limping into the conference room, it's late, and dark outside, and only a few lamps are on, and the office curtains are drawn, so that once the glass door shuts behind you, you're in a very private, cosy world. The main light isn't on, but the lamps around the room are, and it's relaxing and mellow, and you feel like this is almost a sleepover between friends. Chase is lying, spread across three chairs, tossing your ball up into the air, he must have snatched it from your office, which you can't see into right now because of the curtains, and it makes everything smaller, and nicer and more candescent.

Cameron is lying on the glass table, half asleep, but still forcing out suggestions. Foreman is lying on the kitchen counter, and they're all talking to each other.

"I said, _I picked up Thai!"_ You exclaim, and they all turn to you, the smell of good food stirring them. You feel like a parent, as you hand Foreman his favourite, and then Cameron her favourite, and set your own aside. You limp over to Chase, holding out the bag of amazing smelling food, and he inhales greedily, and reaches for a box....and stops himself. Foreman and Cameron are currently gorging themselves after being starved during this long hectic day, so they're not paying attention. "It's spiced noodles," you say quietly "Your favourite."

You think you hear him whimper, but you're not sure. He picks the box up, and opens it, it's not a huge portion, but it'll be filling enough.

"I even got you a fork, because you're incapable of using chop-sticks."

You make him laugh, and he takes the food happily enough, and he eats it happily enough, and you eat yours, and you all laugh and you all joke, and for a moment, everything is perfect.

But then Chase says he needs the bathroom, and he comes back with his breath smelling like mint.

...

...

...

You corner him, bully him, because you've given him too many chances to fix this by himself. And now he's standing in the changing room, shirtless, looking in the mirror. The indentation of his ribs is horrific, but he's still so beautiful. "My mother," he chokes out "She always said..." he shakes his head "She'd lock the fridge when I was younger. So I couldn't get anything. She made sure the maids packed my lunch so precisely and if I ever bought something at school, she always seemed to know, and I..." he wipes his eyes roughly "She'd weigh me every day."

You wince at that. That's not good.

"And then...I left her, and everything was fine, but then she _dies,_ and I realise that I've been..." he laughs mirthlessly "I've been gorging myself, House! Look at me! Look _how fat and ugly I am!"_

You blink back burning tears, and touch his shoulder gently, and this sounds so damn hypocritical coming from you, but you say it anyway. "Chase," you whisper "You need help."

...

...

...

_THREE MONTHS LATER_

You walk into the conference room, and Chase is doing a crossword, an assortment of berries and grapes by his side, half a turkey sandwich in the container, and a chocolate muffin. You grin, and steal the other half of his sandwich, sitting down beside him instead of in your office.

"7 letter word for achievement?" he asks with a smile, you roll your eyes.

"Success."

**Author's Note:**

> Comment?  
> x


End file.
